She had trouble sleeping that night. She turned off the lights, lay in bed and then re-hashed everything that had happened over the past four years. All night she tossed and turned and wondered if she had made the right decision. After a few moments, she would get hot, and push the sheets to the bottom of the bed until she could feel the air on her legs, and then would pull the sheets and the comforter up to her neck to fight off the chill of the air conditioner. She would snuggle under the blanket for a few moments - finally calm - and then start to feel hot, itchy, and doubtful again. It was a cycle: lather, rinse, repeat.

On Friday, she woke up at her regular time feeling groggy and lost. She decided that since it was only May, she couldn't use her last sick-day-- not yet. Her heart fell when she showed up for work and discovered that he had called in sick. To Toby. And had passed along the message that he would be transferring to the Stamford starting in two weeks from Monday. It was a very long day.

On the second night of kicking around the bed, she thought she woke him up. She may have kicked him accidentally, but she didn't care so much anymore, and he wasn't saying anything, so she ignored him. After the next round of pushing around the sheets, he grunted, and then after pulling the blankets up twice more, he groaned, "What the fuck, Pam? Go to sleep." He rolled over and was snoring within minutes. She left the bed, taking a pillow and an extra blanket, and went to the couch. Thursday night played in her head over and over again as she sat curled in the corner of the couch. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she did remember waking up suddenly and seeing the VCR blinking 3:48. She took her pillow and slunk back to bed, and fell asleep for what seemed like hours.

She woke up to the sound of pounding on the walls and blaring music. As she walked out of their bedroom with the comforter wrapped around her, she saw him hammering nails to hang speakers in their living room.

"Isn't it great? Darryl gave me the idea the other night.” The radio was tuned to his favorite station – hard rock played at maximum volume. He yelled over the music, “Now when we play Madden, it'll be like we're IN THE GAME!" She wrinkled her forehead at him and slunk back into bed, but she couldn't fall asleep. She stayed in their room all day, and he only came in to see if she wanted pizza when his buddies had come over to check out the new setup.

When he crawled into bed many hours later, she was still awake. Her eyes were fixed open as she tried to take in everything that was happening: Jim had confessed he loved her; she had rejected him. Jim had kissed her; she had rejected him again. Jim had kissed her, and she was getting married. Jim had kissed her, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be engaged anymore. Jim had kissed her, and even though she loved him too, she had messed everything up. And now, Jim was gone. She kept replaying the scene in her head when he came into the office, and it was wonderful, heartbreaking, and awful, all at the same time.

She glanced at the clock and it was now 1:30. Her eyes were heavy, but her mind still raced. She climbed out of bed and went to the living room again. She hadn't eaten anything all day, but she wasn't hungry. She poured herself a glass of juice and stared at it for what seemed like hours. When she finally began sipping it, she decided she needed to write him a letter. That was it - she would write and explain everything. She began writing frantically, trying to explain why she was the way she was.

She wrote about high school - about being a quiet girl who liked art, who wasn't very popular. About how Roy was a football player, how he had been required to take at least the one art class, and how that was where they met. Where, for the first time in real life, she felt special. She felt like Cinderella, and Roy was good to her. And how scared she was when he graduated and went off to college, how he might forget her. How both relieved and disappointed she was when he failed out after one semester and came back to Scranton and started at Dunder-Mifflin. How when she graduated she lasted a little longer - two years, but only because she went to a local community college like Roy wanted, and not to art school further away. How the classes bored her, how the other students ignored her, and how she had decided she would just be happy to take any job she could get.

How she started working at Dunder-Mifflin in the sales office. And how she had met Jim. How she and Jim immediately clicked. How he had taken her out for lunch at the end of her first week, and how it kind of felt like a date, but he had pulled away when he learned she was engaged. How she had tried to grow their friendship back to the closeness she had never felt with someone after only a week. How a year later, the cameras showed up, and how awkward it had felt at first to have her interactions with Jim recorded. How she knew there wasn't anything to hide - not on her part, at least - but how she kept wondering about Jim. How she wanted so much for him, but didn't have the heart to tell him. About all the missed moments in the past year - moments that could have changed things, but didn't.

How Roy had grown lazy in their relationship since they got engaged, how they didn't have sex as often, how she was frustrated with the way that he never cleaned up and left everything lying around the house for her to deal with. How he always seemed to barge in at those moments when she was having the most fun and ruin things. And how... she was thinking of leaving him. She didn't mention kissing Jim. She didn't mention rejecting him twice in one night. Roy had been in her life for so long, and even though they didn't quite work as a couple anymore, she couldn't see how to end it. This was all the why’s behind the "I can't."

She put the pen down and took a deep breath. She was finally tired, but she couldn't believe she'd written so much in such a short period of time. Maybe I should add ‘Dear Jim’ at the top, she thought, but decided against it in the end. She wasn't planning on sending it anyways, so why have that temptation? She decided to burn it, but she put her head on her pillow and decided to rest her eyes for just a moment.

When she woke up, she heard papers rustling. She lifted her head quickly, and she saw him, sitting and reading. His brow was furrowed and he looked upset. When he looked up from the papers, his face changed. He looked like he wanted to yell at her but he didn't – she could tell that he was just seething . He took a deep breath through his nose and stood up. He threw the papers at her and stormed into their bedroom. She could hear him tearing through the dresser and throwing things on the bed.

She sat for a moment, bewildered. He read it, she thought, Roy read my unsendable letter for Jim, and now he’s was angry. And he’s leaving. When she had first met him, she had thought he'd be the kind who would get enraged and just explode with yelling, but he turned out to be very quiet when he got mad. And right now he was quieter than she had ever known him to be.

She walked slowly up to the doorway and leaned against the jamb.

He threw some more clothes in a duffle, before lifting his head to glower at her. "What was that?" He walked over to her quickly, so close she could feel the heat of his breath on the tip of her nose. "I thought you were finally happy. I set a date, and what do I get?" He threw his hands in the air and started walking away before turning quickly around. "You want to leave me? You?" He turned around again and ran his fingers through his hair. "I have to go. I don't know how long I'll be gone." He walked back to the bed and zipped up the bag before walking back toward her. He leaned down as if to kiss her but paused, then pulled back. "I'll call you." She kept staring vacantly into their bedroom as she heard the door slam on his way out.

Pam bit her lip, walked slowly back to the couch and gathered up her letter. She held it to her chest and for the first time in four days, she cried. She wasn't sure why she was crying, but it felt good to feel SOMETHING instead of just empty and alone.

Later, Pam would put the letter in a drawer. Someday, she would send it. But not now. Not before she figured out how that letter would end.

He hadn't slept properly for weeks. It started long before the casino night - in fact, he can pinpoint it exactly. It was the day of the drug testing when she had said, "You can tell me anything", and he realized how much he was keeping from her. How no matter what he did - planning his vacation during her wedding, dating other women - there was always something inside him that he couldn't tell her. She was his best friend, and he loved her.

And then Michael, stupid, oblivious Michael, had decided to read everyone's complaints out loud. And his had been the only one against her, because why would anyone complain about her at all? Especially about how she was planning her wedding in the office - unless they loved her. And he was pretty sure it was just him. And Roy, of course. Maybe Michael...but that wasn't the point. She had jumped on the fact that it must have been Angela, and even though she was tightly wound and complained about everyone to their face, he couldn't do that to Angela. So he had told Pam the truth.

And that night after telling Pam the complaints were his, he couldn't sleep. He knew she was probably frustrated with him. They were supposed to be friends, just friends, and a real friend wouldn't complain about the happiest day of your life. He didn't feel like a real friend anymore. But then again, they hadn't really been "real friends". He had always been in love with her, and she had always been blissfully oblivious.

So now that he lay in bed thinking about it for the millionth time, he remembered that the first night he had lay awake wondering about her had been the first week they met. He hadn't thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world at first, but when Michael asked him to introduce her around the office, and she smiled at him, his heart had stopped. And the smiles only became more luminous as they got to know each other and especially when she would laugh. He loved how she laughed - it was simultaneously girly and over-exuberant - and she laughed a lot. It was something that had always made him feel better, so if he was feeling low, he made her laugh, and everything would feel right in the world. The last time she had laughed and smiled like that was when she took all his money on casino night. But he was just torturing himself now.

When he told her he was in love with her and she had said, "You have no idea what your friendship means to me," he could feel his world getting darker. He had walked away, and for once the cameras hadn't followed him. He hadn't known where to go or what to do, so he sat in his car, listened to some music, and tried to make himself feel better before facing everyone again in the warehouse.

The movement of someone going into the main building had caught his eye, even though he was facing the wrong way and could only see it in his rear-view. He had turned around only in time to see a flash of teal before the blur was gone, and the area outside the entrance was deserted again. If she wanted a ride home, why not borrow someone else's phone? Why not just call from the warehouse where the party was still going on? He wondered why she might use the office phone, and then he remembered something small, something obscure - she wanted to carry a nice purse with her dress, but the only one that matched was too small to hold anything other than her ID, some cash and her keys. Not her cell phone. She had been without it and felt a little weird, but she had rationalized the safety aspect by saying how Roy always had his phone on that stupid clip on his belt. She was without a phone, and the only place where she could make a call without asking to borrow one was in the office. Would she call Roy? No - she didn't talk to Roy about her problems, and what had happened between them in the parking lot definitely counted as a problem. Her older sister? Probably not - her sister was married and smug, and they hadn't gotten along in years. Her mother? Yes. It had to be her mother. She called her mom after work at least once a week to chat, and she told her mother everything.

He had been slouched down in his seat rationalizing his way through all this when he realized what was happening - she wouldn't call her mother to talk it over unless she needed a second opinion. Why call if she knew she had done the right thing in rejecting him? This must mean - his mind went blank. He had hoped and imagined for so long that someday she would realize her feelings - because he knew she loved him too. He stepped out of the car, and his hunch was confirmed when he saw the sudden beam of light that shot out of Michael's window. She was up there, and he was sure she was on the phone with her mother.

He felt like he could have floated up the stairs on the hope that was filling him like a balloon, and running up to the office would be childish and cocky, and he didn't want to be either. When he finally reached the floor where Dunder Mifflin had its offices, he slowed down, finally stopping for a moment at the door to take a few deep breaths. This was it. There are only a few lights on in the office and the door was slightly ajar. He could see her desk from the hallway, but it was deserted. He pushed open the door slowly, and he knew she was there before he could see her - a hushed voice, and a trail of lamps that led from the door to a familiar spot - his desk.

He walked in slowly and saw her sitting on his desk. Their eyes locked for only a moment, and he knew that this was it. He took long even steps and kept his eyes down, knowing that if he even looked at her, he would wuss out, make an excuse and leave. He heard her finish the conversation and hang up, but could not decipher the words for the pounding of his heart in his ears - this was it. She turned quickly and said his name softly as if to explain, but he couldn't let her talk her way out of it again. He deliberately wrapped his arms around her and lifted her small body slightly and pressed his mouth against hers. He could feel her resist for a only an instant, and then she leaned in. It didn't feel like the kind of kiss he was expecting – it was longer, softer, sweeter. When she put her hands in his hair, he had thought his heart would burst out of his chest.

And then things began to slow down dramatically. She began to pull away and even though they continued to kiss for a few more seconds, he could tell that she felt guilty. She put her hands on his chest, and pressed ever so lightly, a gesture he took to mean that they should stop. But when he looked down at her again, there wasn't a trace of anger there - in fact, it may have been hope. He smiled and said, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

When she said, "Me too," his heart skipped a beat. It stopped again when she said, "I think we're just drunk." This had not been part of any scenario that had played out in his head as he had walked up to the office. She was trying to play off what just happened, but he wasn't going to let her. "No, I'm not drunk." he said quickly. And then, realizing why she might have said it, he asked, "Are you drunk?"

Her eyes seemed darker and pained. "No." Her voice sounded like she was not quite sure of why he asked the question, but the fact that she was not drunk was reassuring. It meant that she had intended to kiss him back - she wanted him too. He leaned in to kiss her again. But before he reached her lips, one word came out slowly, "Jim."

That was when he knew he had to ask the hard question, "Are you really going to marry him?" She nodded. He smiled, because the only way he could stop himself from crying in front of her again was to make it seem like he understood her decision. "Okay". So, he slowly pulled away, stretching the last moments where they touched to their longest until only the tips of their fingers touched, and then pulled away completely and walked out of the room. The elevator opened as soon as he pressed the call button, and once inside he leaned against the wall the entire time because he wasn't sure he could hold himself up. He walked quickly to his car, but did not run - he didn't want there to be a chance that she'd see that. He didn't turn to look up at the office window because he thought she might be looking, because he had had such high hopes for both of them to finally admit what had been building up for two years. And he had given up with that "okay," and he couldn't turn back now. He turned off his music for the drive home, and it was the longest twenty minutes of his life.

It had been the most awful thing that had ever happened to him. He had felt like crying when he got home, but the tears wouldn't come. Plus, Mark was hanging out in the living room, and it didn't seem like the best way to enter a room, or the most manly. He had gone to his room and fallen straight on the bed without changing his clothes, and that's where he still was. He looked up at the ceiling and tried to figure out what he was going to do now. Pam had rejected him - twice - and he really did not want to have to deal with that, with her. It was going to be awkward. At least he had already started on the transfer with Jan, but she had made sure to tell him that it wouldn't be ready for a month at least. That left nearly two weeks before his trip to Australia. Time he had already set aside for vacation, and he couldn't change now. The tickets were bought, the hotel was booked, and he had to go. He just wondered how he would deal with working until then.

He stared at his walls and ceiling most of the night, trying to determine the right way to handle what was going to happen. In the morning he knew how to start. He still had nearly all of his sick days - a weeks worth left, and he really wasn't feeling well - in addition to the lack of sleep. So that took care of Friday. He called Jan as soon as he thought she might be in and confirmed the transfer. The sooner the paperwork on that started, the better. He spent the rest of the day looking online for apartments in and around Stamford. Around four in the afternoon Jan called him at home to let him know that he could start at Stamford sooner than expected. The assistant regional manager at that branch had just informed their manager, Josh Porter, that he would be leaving, and Jim could transition to the new position the following Monday, giving him a week of orientation and settling in time before his trip. He and Mark celebrated the promotion by ordering in wings, drinking themselves into a state of total drunkeness, and playing progressively poorer games of Halo on Mark's Xbox before finally crawling off to their respective rooms around 2 am.

Jim had restless dreams for a couple hours, and then woke up and crawled into his bathroom where he spent an hour bent over the toilet vomiting. He tried to tell himself that it was the beer, or the dozen wings that he'd eaten, or maybe he was coming down with the flu. But as he crawled back into bed, body cold and sweaty, he realized that no matter how excited he was about the promotion, or what he had told Mark about his reasons for transferring, he wasn't okay with how things had turned out at all.